Back in the bay area. There was a huge traffic jam on 101 since the Bay Bridge was closed for construction. We took 280 instead. The fuel warning light went on long before we hit the exit. We made it home safely anyway. Tim hadn’t moved out yet and the apartment was a mess: fine with me. Could use a helping hand on observation during the first couple of days anyway. No furniture yet so I slept on the mattress on the floor and left all my cases unpacked. Need a desk table, a chair, some cabinets and one more bookshelf. Tim made mixed veggie for lunch. I had never heard of okra or quinoa but they tasted fine. There was no meat so I grew hungry pretty soon.
Went to bed around 1; got up at 7 for my first official observation. It was cloudy. I went back to sleep and got up at 740. It was cloudy so I went back to sleep and got up at 820, it was still cloudy. Jack was already on the deck watching something. I went out and saw a hawk bathing in the drinking fountain which Tim set up for the animals. “That’s a duck” said Jack, “he wouldn’t leave the pool”. The hawk seemed pretty relaxed there indeed. I took some pictures and went back for another nap. Woke up again at 930. I could see the sun now so I went ahead and opened the dome. The hawk was now sitting on a tree branch not too far from us. It looked really fat. I had a hard time imagining him climbing up there. Maybe he was able to fly after all.
2
The electrician was fixing my AC after he tore the whole ceiling down next door when I, not too surprisingly, saw a gray lizard appearing out of the blue and wandering around in my bedroom. I was cooking chicken drummets but assumed it was not the smell that drew him in (I probably should worry more about the hawk who frequented our fountain lately). Anyway the lizard was too big to hide in the corners and after some sweats and screams I managed to grab him with two layers of Ranch 99 plastic bags and finally throw him out of the window. He wasn’t particularly alarmed, didn’t shed his tail or even change his color.
In the early evenings this week you could see the moon rising behind the hills on the other side of the bay. It was huge and brownish yellow and reminded me of the Hami melon I deserted in the fridge. Some part of it was so severely rotten and had to be discarded. On a rare occasion when I actually came down to downtown Palo Alto I saw two Mormon boys walking in front of me: white shirts, name tags… Wide-eyed, they retreated into their polite demeanor and were carefully observing those around them who were observing them back but pretended they weren’t. If these boys had been blonder and their skin fairer (and there a long line of them marching down the street) I would have certainly believed I was in a sarcastically erotic dream (or Utah).
3
The freshness of an undergrad course depends on the course number (those starts with a 1 usually target at freshmen or sophomores) and the quantity of preppy-dressed youth-wanna-be grad students (who think they can somehow start all over again). On a rainy day you can tell the difference at a glace. Some carefully fold up their raincoats and hide away their umbrellas, while the others suddenly storm in with shorts and flip-flops on and jump into their seats, soaking wet, but look like nothing happened except that they might just have had too much water fun.
I’m tagging along these days, trying to finish my homework on time. Mostly I stayed in my weird-shaped room, working on my laptop instead of going down to the office. I spent my breaks eating snacks, giggling over some readily downloaded TV series, or walking on to the patio that faces the west where the hills stretch and ascend and block my view of the sea. When it’s raining (oh it’s already autumn!) heaps of clouds stack up (oh how I love the puns!) on those remote hills and you imagine the vast land actually terminates there, as a thin line, and a vaster sea takes over and now it’s trying to force back in with its salty winds and fogs and tides… News on the radio these days are usually bad news, but everybody has to cope with it. For now, I breathe in deeply, take full advantage of this fresh air, then do what I have to do and temporarily pretend they never happened.
I saw a huge buck leaping over the fence one morning. Just a shadow and I drove my. Erratic traffic here consists of ground squirrels (and inquiring hikers) during the day, rabbits at night. For the past two weeks I hosted several parties in this free-rent hut, pretending it’s my private asset and showing everybody around… At night I struggled to stay up because I couldn’t bear the thought of doing or feeling nothing, always gave in at 3 or 4 after a couple dozen pages of reading, and finally slipped into an air-conditioned unconscious morning with a slanting wall over my head, without any dreams.
4
The time change makes it easier for me to watch sports from China. Usually the important matches kick off at night around 7pm. That would be 4am on the west coast and well past my bed time (well, only by an hour). But now, since I’m able to start tuning in during my regular hour, I can sit at ease and extend my nightly activity indefinitely without feeling guilty. On the down side, the sudden gain (or loss) of an hour makes my short daytime hours even shorter. Often shortly after my late lunch the sky light starts to fail. By 5:30 it will be almost dark, and the car lights are switched on.
Up on the hill you can survey the whole bay area at this time, see it being lit little by little like a curiously designed LED board. It is strange that at this scene you feel somewhat obliged to go home at an early hour, as if a basic instinct is calling, as if you are trying to seek shelter, longing for a safe place, being warm and comfortable… It reminds me of the early years when I still had to drag my huge backpack and took the longest bus ride home after school. Through the grotesque shadows of a strange world under the street light, a world of orange and black forever remained to be known.
Since moving into the observatory I developed an acute awareness of the weather– how much cloud is likely to develop over the next few hours, when the morning fog is going to clear up, etc. You are forced to take a break from your dull routines– no matter how urgent they are– and look into a space that is so much greater, in fact, infinitely greater than you and all that matters to you in whichever sense (and yet so empty, so empty that people need to concoct all sorts of theories to make sense out of it). I wish, from a purely aesthetic point of view, that there would be a variety of clouds in the sky (like on the east cost, before a storm when you stand on the balcony watching the vapor gathers and churns right above your head). But after all the clear nights here with a perfect view of the Orion Belt is nothing less fascinating. You cannot ask for too much.
5
One thing I missed terribly about Hangzhou is its distinct change of seasons. Maybe I say so because I’m far away from its scorching summers and freezing winters, so all the discomforts and inconveniences are effaced from my memory. But Hangzhou has always been a romantic metaphor. And a long break from the unavoidable aesthetic fatigue does help rebuilding my sentimental attachment. I especially miss its characteristic plantations. Trees of willow, phoenix and camphor. The seasonal flowers. Peach blossom, lotus, sweet osmanthus, and plum blossom.
This is why I became violently happy today when I smelt the familiar autumn scent in front of the Applied Physics building. There are two Chinese osmanthus in the corner with a limited number of buds, and the blossomed ones are amongst the palest I’ve ever seen. It was the scent that gave them away. I was somewhat guilty for not recognizing them in years– I walked past them several times per day.
Life is simpler here. Rain stops, grass turns brown, you go to the beach and party. Then the rain comes, grass comes back to life. You’ll then stay mostly indoors, perhaps thank God for what you are given (strictly once per year). In between the significant dates there’s this blankness, a stretch of days with the same sunshine, same temperature, same long busy working days, same scenery in a monotone not-too-unpleasant world. The world is not coming to you like it does in the city, you’ll have to go out to it. I remember my parents marking my height with a knife on our door frame when I was in middle school. You’re constantly reminded what you’ve become so you can act accordingly– if it’s good news it’s good, if not– too bad. Now I have to make my own marks. Maybe not– I already have a number that I no longer feel sorry about.
I’m always curious about the death of animals here. Pets, I assume, should have special crematories or cemeteries– or do people just bury them in the back yard? The life of insects apparently doesn’t count. My roommate and I just successfully killed an army of ants with the help from a professional pest control guy. The power of being able to destroy lives at will pleased all three of us. But what about, say, squirrels? Do they die on trees and rot there? Or do they have a secret but public place where they go and die, like the elephants? Or is road kill the only cause of squirrel deaths? One thing, what happens to the deformed squirrel bodies on local streets? It always remains a mystery to me.
I observe the sun. The moon was there early this week, like Monday or Tuesday.
